CHAPTER 18
At Saint Fidelio—always solemn and quiet—the only time any trace of liveliness appeared was during meals.
Maybe not for the priests or priestesses, but for the holy knights, the sheer amount they ate made it a different story.
Renald, who usually heaped his tray with bread and potatoes without hesitation, for some reason wasn’t sitting down today. Instead, he was looking around the hall.
“What are you doing now? Who are you looking for?”
“Ah… I just didn’t see Sister Agnes. She’s not with the other priestesses either.”
“And what would you do if you found her?”
Michael clicked his tongue in annoyance.
But he couldn’t scold him too harshly, because today, the dining hall was unusually packed with knights and trainees.
Even at dinner, which usually consisted of just bread and potatoes, most people would grab something and rush right out. Yet now, the hall was abnormally full.
“Wow, I’ve never seen this place so crowded before.”
“Can’t you keep your voice down?”
Even so, Michael’s eyes also swept over the priestesses’ seats.
Nowhere was the white veil—mark of the volunteers—to be found.
Not that it mattered much. If a lady of House Sergio had entered this hall, everyone would have recognized her instantly.
“…She already quit, huh.”
“Huh? Quit? Who quit what?”
“You don’t need to know.”
Michael’s blunt response made Renald grumble and look away.
It wasn’t like he was the only one.
Ever since Adele had shown up near the training grounds that morning, the entire place had been in chaos.
There had even been the bizarre sight of young trainee knights lining up before mealtime.
“Look at them. You’d think they hadn’t eaten in days.”
“Hah. What are the so-called defenders of the temple thinking?”
“Why not? It’s been a while since the place felt lively—I think it’s great.”
“What’s so great about it? Sure, we’re not bound by the same vows as the priests, but falling all over ourselves for one woman? You can see it plain as day—they’ve all forgotten their duties, eyes bloodshot, desperately trying to say something to her—wait, Commander!”
“…”
Michael froze, scanning the room at the sudden chill in the air.
He had never imagined the person quietly having a meal over there was the commander himself.
“W-Why is the Commander here…?”
“Am I not allowed to be here?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant… Of course, you’re welcome anywhere.”
“Good. Then step aside.”
As Michael quickly moved out of the way, Killian walked silently toward the head table where the High Priestess sat.
Each step echoed through the hall with authority.
Though the chatter had died down the moment he entered, Killian’s expression didn’t waver as he walked straight through the now-silent hall.
What… did I just witness?
Still stunned, Michael elbowed Renald while watching Killian bow to the High Priestess.
“You should’ve said something! You saw the Commander walk in!”
“How would I know? He always eats alone—why would he suddenly show up here?”
Renald, also surprised, stared after Killian.
According to the Archbishop’s decree, meals could be taken wherever one pleased, regardless of rank. Still, Killian almost always ate modestly and alone.
For him to come here…
Renald racked his brain—and then gasped.
“Wait. Don’t tell me… our Commander’s interested in that, too?”
“…Can you be quiet?”
“Come on, think about it. The Commander’s a man, too. A beauty like her shows up in this secluded mountain, of course his eyes and heart would be drawn to her!”
Renald spoke as if it was only natural, convinced he was right.
Just because he lived in an ice cavern didn’t mean his heart was frozen solid.
Beaming, he even nodded in Adele’s direction.
“See? Look at that presence. He’s exerting enough pressure to keep all the other knights from even thinking about approaching the lady!”
“…I’m not so sure.”
Michael looked at Killian, now seated.
Unlike the other knights, whose faces were flushed and who kept wetting their dry lips nervously, Killian remained composed.
His sharp eyes—like those of a beast guarding its young—reminded Michael of a predator, fierce and focused, as if bearing the cold of Saint Fidelio’s eternal snow.
The moment Killian’s gaze met his, Michael flinched and quickly looked away.
“…No. I think it’s the opposite.”
